“For now,” she replied, patting her barely visible baby bump.

“But Jared is building a future. And there isn’t room for a liability in it.”

“Is that what he calls me?” I asked.

“He doesn’t have to call you anything,” she said, taking a step toward the stairs.

“Your actions speak for themselves. Everyone thinks you’re losing your mind.”

She gave me a cold, pitying look before ascending the stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically.

I stood alone in the grand hallway, the scent of her expensive perfume lingering in the air.

Over the next three days, my home became a fortress and a stage.

Bright ring lights were set up in the guest wing, casting harsh white glows into the corridor.

I had to listen to Courtney’s bright, bubbly voice projecting through the walls.

She lamented her “stalker” to her millions of followers, praising Harlan Media for her protection.

At dinner, Jared sat at the head of the table, with Courtney on his right and me on his left.

He poured her sparkling water and carved her chicken with meticulous care.